


The Choices That Define Us

by Huarache



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Catholic Imagery, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huarache/pseuds/Huarache
Summary: After the events at the Vatican, the Sister Warriors seek safe haven to recover.  Mary makes use of an escape route given to her by Shannon before her passing, but they all end up with more than they bargained for when the destination dredges up painful bits of shared history for some of the party.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 34
Kudos: 207
Collections: Warrior Nun (TV series)





	1. Hell Outta Doge

Mary knew a place to go.

In the wake of the Halo’s violent discharge, the Vatican had descended into chaos. Whimpering tourists still clutching their shattered cameras crawled pitifully towards safety, clinging like desperate penitents to the boots of disoriented Swiss Guard, as the rubble that was once the Apostolic Palace smoked and groaned its displeasure beside them. 

They had come today to be inspired, to feel God’s presence and just maybe to experience a fleeting sense of worthiness as a vessel for His grace. But a literal tableau of heaven and hell laid out before them in St. Peter’s Square? It was almost comically absurd. Something dreamed up by adrenaline-starved screenwriters in some Hollywood backlot dystopia, not acted out with brutal savagery on this holy ground. 

The piercing ring of the Halo still reverberated in the surrounding stone, trembling aftershocks resonating through bricks and bones alike. It felt like a judgement in which they had all been found wanting, a new mark on their immortal soul that wouldn’t be erased with a few hastily whispered Hail Marys. No one had had this in mind as a souvenir. 

“Camila!” Mary finally found her voice, though it came out pinched and hoarse. They didn’t have much time. Reinforcements, Swiss and possibly otherwise, would be on them in minutes. 

The youngest of them, the smallest, the least likely to be picked out of a line up for anything other than the fierceness of her positivity, was on all fours several metres away, spitting a chalky mixture of blood and masonry dust onto the paving stones. Hearing her name, she looked up, her normally smiling face dulled by shock. 

“Camila, we gotta move! Can you walk?”

A slow lick of split, peeling lips. 

“Find us a ride. Anything.”

Nothing. 

“Camila, NOW! Snap out of it, we need you,” Mary was already on her feet, tottering towards the Halo Bearer’s last known position. “Find a car. I’ll round up the rest.”

The urgency of her Sister’s voice seemed to break through the fog and Camila pushed herself up off her knees, nodding quickly before taking off at a staggering half run towards the street. 

Mary came across Lilith first, or rather Lilith’s arm, poking out from a truly impressive heap of bodies. Her fingers were still curled into a vicious claw though the nails were short and neatly trimmed. It was hard to tell what was what in the tangle of limbs. 

The pile wriggled as though alive, a shifting mass of flesh and fabric that seemed to surge outwards momentarily before collapsing back in on itself. Mary drew a shotgun. 

_Now what..._

A muffled growl, inhumanly feral, rose from within the heap. Mary planted her feet firmly, watching and waiting for the source of the noise to make itself known. _One-one thousand, two-one thousand..._ her palm was sweating against the stippled grip of the gun. 

In the end it wasn’t a monster that emerged with one last burst of strength, it was Lilith, rising from beneath a couple of teenage school boys whose green uniforms were smeared with bits of unidentifiable gore. Mary very nearly blew the Sister Warrior’s head off, her finger twitching dangerously on the trigger before she lowered her weapon and glanced with a grimace at the school trip gone horribly awry. 

_God were they dead?_ Mary wasn’t sure, but the thought only stayed with her a moment before Lilith caught her eye. Fierce, fiery Lilith, whose drive and ambition had put the two at odds on more than one occasion, but who was now staring at Mary slightly unhinged, dark eyes unblinking. The mixture of power and terror she found reflected there was profoundly unnerving. She looked away, holstering her gun quickly and grasping Lilith’s forearm, hauling her roughly to her feet. 

“Ava?” 

“Dunno,” Mary shook her head, “lost sight of her.”

“The Halo...? Adriel!?” Lilith whipped around wildly, scanning the square for any sign of the traitorous duo. “What happened?”

“He’s gone. Fa— Vincent too, the bastard. Other than that,” a shrug, “your guess is as good as mine. We need to find Ava, and Beatrice. Camila’s gone to grab us some wheels.”

At the mention of Camila, Lilith looked relieved, crossing herself quickly in thanks and dusting off the front of her habit. Last she had seen of her younger Sister, Camila had been completely surrounded by a group of the possessed. Having run out of ammunition, she was using the stock of her crossbow like a baseball bat. It hadn’t looked promising. 

Mary saw Lilith tuck a strand of hair, newly greyed, behind her ear, draw in a shaky breath, and do her best to pull herself together. As much as Mary wanted to comfort her, to reach across the gap of dusty air and hug her as she had earlier in the grottos, now was simply not the time. They would have to inventory their emotional damage later. 

“You good Lil?”

“I-I’m fine yes...” the taller girl nodded curtly, not terribly convincing. “Let’s find the others.”

They split up, poking and prodding their way slowly through the carnage. They could hear the alarms shrieking loudly from the surrounding buildings. Time was running out.

Mary’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she finally saw Beatrice laying in a crumpled slouch against a pillar. She willed her aching legs to move faster. 

“Beatrice? Bea!” 

Panic swirled as Mary got closer, noting the thin trickle of blood at the corner of Beatrice’s mouth. Her eyes were closed, features slack and under any other circumstances Mary would have declared it the most relaxed she had ever seen her friend. 

“No, no, no, no... Come on Bea. Please no. Don’t do this to me.” Mary pressed her fingers to the unconscious nun’s neck. A pulse. It was there, and steady. _Praise fucking be._ She easily lifted the smaller girl from the ground, cradling her against her chest and turned to spot Lilith headed towards her, Ava’s limp body slung over her shoulders like a sack of flour.

“Is she-“

“Is she-“

They both started at once, and both paused, as though they were afraid of the answer. 

“I think she’s just had the wind knocked out of her,” Mary offered first, “had a run in with some architecture.”

“The Halo Bearer is also breathing. You know Ava,” Lilith allowed herself a wry smirk, “too stubborn to die a second time.”

Another time and place and it would have been quite funny, but here and now the words fell flat between them and Lilith cleared her throat, looking sheepishly at the ground. Mary, uncharacteristically, didn’t know what to say. Mercifully, a rusty white cargo van chose that exact moment to peel loudly into the square, tires squealing, and saved either of them from having to speak further. 

As usual, Camila’s timing was impeccable. The tiny nun launched herself out of the driver side door as soon as the van slid to a halt. She threw open the back doors and waved Mary and Lilith forward frantically.

“Come on, come on! We have to go Sisters!” Her usual rapid fire delivery carried a frantic edge. “There are emergency vehicles all over the place out there and if we don’t get through the streets now, we’ll get blocked in!”

“Never been so happy to see you Peanut,” Mary threw Camila a grateful smile as she laid Beatrice gently in cargo space, Lilith doing the same with Ava, “you’re a fucking Godsend, you know that?”

“Language Mary,” Camila tutted as she tossed the older woman the keys and hopped in the back with her injured teammates. “We’re in the Vatican!”

Lilith rolled her eyes and closed the doors with a snort, moving to the dented passenger door. It squealed loudly when she wrenched it open. Mary prayed silently that this bucket of bolts would stay together long enough to get them to safety. She threw the van into gear and floored it, kicking up a spray of loose gravel and dirt behind them. In the rear view she could see Camila tenderly tucking rolls of clothing under Ava and Beatrice’s heads while beyond the windows an entire platoon of orange, red, and blue flooded from the Basilica’s main entrance. _Buzzer beater. Just in time._

She guided the van through the narrow streets of Rome at a decidedly unsafe speed, waiting for Lilith to dig a GPS out of her kit. They narrowly avoided a collision with an oncoming ambulance, swerving down a side street as the flashing lights continued in the direction of the Vatican. Through a completely random series of rights and lefts, combined with a massive dose of pure dumb luck, they made their way to a quieter part of the city. Mary hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and released it shakily. 

“Jesus fuck.” No one saw fit to admonish her cursing. 

“Now what?” Camila chirped from the back while doing her best to prevent her patients from sliding violently into the side walls every time Mary turned. 

“We can’t go back to Cat’s Cradle,” Lilith stated the obvious, gripping the GPS so hard her knuckles were white. “That’s the first place they’ll look. Anywhere connected to the Church is also out.”

“But we’re nuns!”

“Nuns who just C4’d the papal residence, Camila.” Lilith chewed her lower lip in thought, “I don’t think we’re in the good books anymore.”

“Lilith’s right. No Church. But I got this.” Mary knew a place to go. How the thought found her amidst the wail of sirens, moans of the injured and the deafening memory of Ava’s screams, she’d have time to consider later. For now, her priorities were simple: get them the fuck away from here. “Key in this address.”

Lilith entered the information as Mary recited a series of unfamiliar postal codes from memory that mapped a route east to the Adriatic, and then north along the coast. It ended in an empty area of the Dolomites near a tiny village called Rocca Pietore. 

“That’s in the middle of nowhere Mary...where are we going?” Lilith frowned at her from the passenger seat. 

“I dunno. Shannon gave me this address once, drilled it into me until I could repeat it in my sleep. She said to use it - last resort - if I ever needed to lay low outside the eyes of the Church.”

Talking about Shannon made Mary’s chest ache. She tightened her grip on the wheel. How many of the pieces of this blasphemous mess had the previous Warrior Nun managed to put together? No wonder she’d seemed so distracted and distant at the end. No wonder Vincent had—

“So I’m just trusting my team.” Mary brushed her emotions aside for now, and met Lilith’s eyes with far more confidence than she felt. “Trusting that Shannon knew I would need this one day and that now is the time. “

They drove in uncomfortable silence, each pothole and juttering turn of their ancient vehicle pointing out new bumps and bruises that they would no doubt feel fully in the morning. The GPS finally got them through the snarl of Roman traffic and out on to one of the Autostrada, A24, heading east. Mary could hear Camila whispering words of encouragement to Ava and Beatrice in the back, though neither had shown any signs of regaining consciousness.

They stopped for gas in L’Aquila around dinner, their battered appearance drawing intrigued looks from the register attendant as Mary cleaned the shop out of packaged snacks and bottled water. She shot him what she hoped was a nonchalant grin and a shrug, leaving a couple extra bills of the counter for his trouble. He raised an eyebrow but rang them through, not even bothering to offer change. 

The sun sunk slowly behind the rising hills on either side of the highway as they hit the foothills of the Apeninnes. Camila had dozed off with a protective arm around her Sisters, her soft snoring often drowned out by the whine of the van’s engine as it laboured its way upwards. Lilith toyed with a packet of mass produced biscotti, tapping the rock hard baked good on the dash and holding it up in Mary’s peripheral vision. 

“Really?”

“You seriously going to complain right now?” Mary slid her eyes from the road for a second to frown at her co-pilot. “Seriously? It’s not like the place was full of fucking kale Lilith.”

“Language,” Lilith smirked and tapped Mary’s shoulder with the biscuit. “And nobody actually likes kale. Don’t be dramatic.”

She opened the cellophane wrapper and offered it to Mary, who declined. 

“You need to eat something Mary.”

“You just want to see if it kills me first before you try it.”

“Possibly.” A grin in the growing dark. “So you really have no idea where we’re going? I would have thought Shannon would give you more information than that. You two were...close.”

“Yeah well, sometimes close gets you killed.” Mary sighed and watched the blue line on the GPS unit stretch on ahead of them. “She was probably just protecting me. She knew something was up. She was smarter than a lot of people gave her credit for, you know?”

“Mmhm.” Lilith didn’t, but she knew enough just to hum her agreement around bites of cookie. “I respected her. She was a natural leader. I can’t believe Father Vincent -“

“Don’t even say his name.” Mary felt her throat closing and fought against it. The betrayal was still far too fresh. “I’m going to fuck him up Lil. I swear to God I will rip him apart with my bare fucking hands if I have to. I-“

Mary slammed the palm of her hand against the wheel as her voice broke, rattling a loose bolt somewhere in the steering column. She heard rather than saw Lilith shift in her seat. A hand, awkward, tentative, but warm, settled on her forearm.

“I’ll be right there with you. You know that right?” Lilith was clearly uncomfortable, but trying her best. “And....I wanted to apologize. For my attitude...after the docks. I was insensitive. I’m sorry.”

“Well look at you and your personal growth!” The words, though teasing, were not unkind. Nether of them did well with the softer side of life. Fists were much more dependable. “Wonders never cease.”

“Shut up. You’re insufferable.”

“Thanks though. I mean it.”

The hand gave a reassuring squeeze and retreated. The two women lapsed into a more companionable silence, focusing their energy into willing their struggling van down the other side of the range. 

By the time they turned northward onto the A14, the air had a taken on a noticeable saline tang. They couldn’t see the water so much as taste it, looming somewhere off to their right. There were faster routes to their destination, according to the GPS, but it seemed like roads slightly less travelled were not a terrible idea. They trusted Shannon. 

Now four hours into the drive, in the quiet of the night outside the capital, Mary was having significant difficulty keeping her eyes open. The reflective lines on the road blurred and shifted. More than once she found herself dangerously close the metal median before snapping out of it and guiding their rickety van back into its lane. She resisted Lilith’s insistence that she pull over only briefly, before exiting the highway into an empty rest area. 

“You can’t do the whole drive yourself.”

“Watch me.” Mary shoved the door open with a grunt and hopped out. She stretched her arms above her head, her vertebrae popping audibly at the change in position. She leaned back into the vehicle and grabbed her half full water bottle from the cup holder, splashing some into her hands and trying to scrub the dirt, sweat, and sleep from her face. She was moderately successful with the first two. 

“Your hero complex is a little much sometimes.” Lilith watched her from the passenger seat, arms crossed. 

“Hero complex?” Mary barked something that may have been a laugh. “Fuck you. Let’s look at our options here. Beatrice is out cold, Ava can barely work a toaster, and you ... don’t even get me started.”

“I can drive.” Lilith’s voice was low, steely. 

“The hell you can.”

“I’m fine Mary.”

“The hell you are! I saw you, Lilith, I _saw_ you.” The look on Mary’s face was incredulous. She flicked a wrist towards Lilith’s hair and the taller girl flinched. “And until you explain that shit to me, or prove that you aren’t going to accidentally portal yourself to kingdom come, you are not touching this goddamn wheel!”

“You forgot about me,” Camila’s face appeared in between the front seats, trying to calm the tension between them with a brilliant, if somewhat tired, smile. She wriggled her small frame through the gap, careful not to kick Lilith, and flopped with a thump into the driver’s seat. “I’ll drive.”

“Nuh uh. Nope.” Mary shook her head. “In the back with you. You’ll be needed back there if either of them wakes up.”

“I just spent the past hour and a half sleeping. I’m hardly ‘needed’ back there right now.” Camila held her hand out and set her jaw determinedly. “Give me the keys Mary.”

“Don’t make me move you Peanut.” 

“Don’t make me take them from you.”

Mary blinked. There was no undertone of humor in Camila’s statement, despite the fact that they both knew, hand-to-hand, Mary was by far the stronger Sister. The extended hand gestured impatiently for the keys. 

“Please.”

Lilith watched the exchange with interest, a new level of admiration forming for their young companion. She saw Mary roll her shoulders, a frustrated tic that betrayed her discomfort. Camila wasn’t backing down. 

Finally the standoff broke with Mary muttering something off-color and tossing the keys into Camila’s lap. The nun, with a triumphant grin to Lilith, inserted the key into the ignition and carefully buckled her seatbelt. 

“Get some rest,” Camila said into the rear view mirror while Mary clambered into the back and closed the cargo doors. “You can take another shift in a bit.”

A grumble and then silence. 

“Think you can follow this thing?” Lilith jerked her chin towards the GPS with a half smile pulling at the corner of her lips. _Camila was full of surprises._

“I just hacked Vatican security, Sister. A little credit.”

A real laugh this time and Lilith resettled into the passenger seat, content in her role as co-pilot for the time being. Camila began to hum as she eased the van back onto the road and tapped her fingers in tune on the wheel. Lilith hoped it was temporary. They still had a long way to go. 

—+—

Mary woke as the back of a hand smacked softly against her face. Disoriented, she shoved herself up on one elbow and tried to get her bearings. The shuddering movements of the van and the low buzz of conversation from the front seat brought it all back to her in a flash. She yawned and grimaced at the crick in her neck. It was still pitch black out, so she hadn’t slept long. 

Exhaustion kept her vision from clearing for several moments until she was able to focus on the pale hand now resting on her bicep. She followed wrist, arm and shoulder in each flash of a passing road light to a still unconscious but frowning Beatrice. 

“Mrmpdf.” The Sister Warrior’s eyes were moving rapidly behind her closed lids, jaw clenching and unclenching at whatever scene was playing out before her. “Behi...behind...Ava...no, beh-“. 

“Hey,” Mary scooted closer, shaking Beatrice gently by the shoulder, to no reaction. She tried a bit more forcefully, “Hey Beatrice, wake up.“

“Ava - NO!” Still caught in the throes of the battle in the Square, Beatrice’s body interpreted the hand on her shoulder as a threat. Before Mary had a chance to even process the agonized howl, an elbow connected squarely with her throat and she reeled backwards, choking as the muscles surrounding her windpipe seized and spasmed. 

“B-..” Mary’s voice faded into a fit of hoarse coughing. Lilith pulled herself out of her seat to look into the cargo space, alarmed. She reached out a hand to steady Mary, keeping her from slamming her head into the hard plastic of the center console.

“Bea it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re safe.” Mary lurched forward, recovering enough to wrap her arms around the thrashing nun, her burning muscles protesting as Beatrice struggled against them. “It’s me, it’s Mary, Bea. I got you, you’re okay.”

“M-Mary?” Beatrice looked bewildered, and then panicked. “Ava? Where’s Ava, Mary? Adriel, he-..I couldn’t-“

The sound that ripped its way from Beatrice’s throat then nearly broke Mary’s heart. _Jesus Christ._ Quickly she rotated both of their bodies towards Ava’s still form and let go, soothing a hand across Beatrice’s back.

“Ava’s here too. She’s breathing, she’s stable. Whatever she did used a lot of juice, we think the Halo is still recharging.”

The normally stoic Sister Beatrice swallowed a sob as she bent to rest her head softly against Ava’s, her hands coming up to frame the Halo Bearer’s face. For several kilometers no one had the nerve to speak. The whine of the engine and occasional tick-tick-tick that signalled Camila changing lanes were the only sounds until the van crunched to a halt on the gravel shoulder. 

The warmth of Mary at her back eventually reminded Beatrice of her audience and she straightened abruptly, sitting back on her heels. She made a show of checking Ava’s vitals.

“Good. I’m, uh, glad that she’s safe. That the halo is safe.” Beatrice cleared her throat. “That we’re all safe. It’s good.”

Mary didn’t miss the pointed look that Lilith sent her way. She arched an eyebrow in response. Inarticulate Beatrice was not a thing. 

“Yeah Bea, it’s good. Real good. You had us worried there for a while. How you feeling?”

“Foggy.” Beatrice stretched out her joints, pressing here and there to assess her own injuries. “Bruised. Maybe broken ribs? Everything hurts.”

“Par for the course.” Camila appeared at the back doors, climbing in and flipping the keys to Mary. “We’re all a little worse for wear at the moment, but at least we’re together.”

She didn’t hesitate to pull Beatrice into a monstrous hug, feeling her friend freeze, and then relax against her. Camila’s affection wasn’t optional.

“I was so scared Bea. You scared the _crap_ ,” Camila whispered the word as though she considered it swearing, “out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”

Mary took her dismissal to the driver’s seat with a grateful nod to Camila. The younger nun comforted naturally, without thought. For Mary it required a concerted effort. The rawness of Beatrice’s cry had caught her off guard and she found her hands shaky on the driver’s side door. _Deep breath. Get your shit together. Keep moving._ She hoisted herself into place and put the van in drive. 

“W-Where are we? Where are we going?” Beatrice looked mortified momentarily, but slammed her carefully constructed facade back into place as the vehicle began rolling forward once again. Camila clung to her like a lifeline. “Not back to Cats Cradle.”

“You really think we’re that dense?” Lilith this time, her Cheshire grin half hidden as her chin rested on the back of her hand on the seat back. “Oh ye of little faith. We’re just to the north of Ravenna. You’ve been out for about 8 hours.”

“Eight hours?!” She shook her head to clear it, wincing as a bolt of pain coursed through her skull. “What’s in Ravenna? How did we get out of Rome? Where’s -“

They could practically see Beatrice whirling through the pages of her substantial internal encyclopedia; maps of the Adriatic coast, likelihood of pursuit, risk of imminent danger. Calculating, triangulating, strategizing, planning for contingencies. 

“We can hear you thinking Beatrice, and it’s exhausting. Mary’s taking us somewhere safe. In the Dolomites. That’s all we know.” Lilith rolled her eyes. “There are barely palatable snacks in the plastic bag back there and bottles of water. Hydrate, and for the rest of our sakes, please just chill the heck out.”

“But-“

“Chill. Out.”

“Don’t worry Bea, the Halo will heal her. She’ll be okay, it’ll just take time,” Camila cut in and murmured sympathetically, passing one of the aforementioned bottles of water and something that looked suspiciously like a cardboard macaroon. “Before you know it she’ll be up and begging us to stop for greasy fast food.”

Beatrice just blinked and gently detached herself from Camila with a pat on the arm. She wished she could share her Sister’s conviction. Stillness looked so unnatural on Ava. Ava who was always bouncing, tapping, fidgeting, just - moving; it was hard to look at her expressionless face and think that everything was going to be all right. 

Over the next few hours, they skirted major cities, continuing north and slightly east. Highway gradually yielded to two lanes, gave way to dirt road and finally deteriorated to little more than a goat trail as the GPS took them further and further off the beaten track into the mountains. Rays of the rising sun broke over the jagged edges of rock that gave the area its name, scattering light to mark the start of a new day. If they had been in any condition to enjoy it, the scenery would have been stunning. 

Their poor van however, their trusty steed that had seen them safely across an entire country, was not a fan of the change in terrain. Mary did her best to avoid the worst of the potholes, but the washouts and rocky sections became more frequent as they gained altitude. At one point, after a particularly jostling section of road, it had had enough. The van wheezed and sputtered its way to within two kilometers of their destination before simply giving up with a prolonged shudder and an outpouring of thick, black smoke. 

Mary swore under her breath and dropped the hood. There was no way it was fixable in their current situation. They would have to walk the rest of the way. She turned to look at her Sisters, bloodied and barely standing, and hoped they had the stamina to reach the top of the ridge. 

Beatrice, with painstaking care, moved Ava towards the back of the van and looped her arms under the Halo Bearer’s knees and armpits. She looked so small and fragile. Beatrice would have given anything to hear one of Ava’s terrible puns in that moment. 

She took as deep a breath as she could, crouching slightly before attempting to lift Ava’s dead weight. Sharp pain lanced its way up her injured side and she bit back a groan. Beatrice collected herself, gritted her teeth and tried again, feeling her knees buckle slightly under her. 

“Let me.”

Beatrice spun to see Lilith beside her, her head blotting out most of the sunrise.

“No I’ll be fine, thank you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Lilith sighed in exasperation and lunged forward quickly, jabbing her fingers, albeit not at full force, into Beatrice’s ribs. The smaller girl gave a strangled cry and dropped to a knee, drawing Mary’s attention. 

“What the fuck was that Lilith?”

“She was being stubborn.” Lilith shrugged as though that explained everything. She scooped Ava up with ease and started walking up the path. “Can’t have her drop the Halo Bearer off the side of a cliff simply because she refuses to acknowledge her own limits.”

Beatrice got to her feet, looking murderous. She took a step after Lilith but felt Mary grab her arm to hold her back. 

“It was a jerk move, but she’s right Bea. We all know you’re badass, but right now you look like I might have to carry _you_ up there. Let her help.”

She shook Mary’s hand off and clutched her throbbing ribs. Lilith was already out ahead of them, Ava’s feet bobbing in time with each step that the Sister Warrior took. Beatrice grabbed the GPS and some light supplies, shooting Mary an angry look before starting off after Lilith. 

She needed to be there when Ava woke up, she had promised. 

Whatever they had expected to find as they crested the final hill - fortress? forgotten stronghold? - it certainly wasn’t an idyllic little cabin nestled in open field, neatly kept gardens and an adjacent barn completing the postcard perfect scene. The GPS beeped twice, their AI guide informing them in casual monotone that “you have arrived”. All four of them simply stared. 

“Are you sure you remembered those directions correctly Mary?” Lilith shifted Ava’s weight in her arms and looked over her shoulder at her companions. 

“Yeah I’m sure.” Mary’s scowl carried over into the gruffness of her tone. What the hell was this? It was isolated all right, but beyond that, it bore more resemblance to grandma’s summer cottage than any sort of safe house. _Trust Shannon._

“Here goes nuthin’...”. She motioned for the group to stay behind her and marched right up to the ancient wooden door. Mary pounded on it hard enough to rattled the hinges. No answer. She knocked again and tried the knob, but found it securely locked. 

_If ever a little break and entry could be forgiven..._ she thought to herself. She raised her boot, preparing to kick it down when she thought she heard muffled movement from inside the house. 

Mary straightened and cleared her throat, following the last of Shannon’s instructions. She was never particularly comfortable reciting scripture, but now, in need and desperation, the words poured from her lips with a Sister’s fervency. 

“ ** _Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act._** ” 

Beatrice blinked at Mary’s back in astonishment. _Proverbs 3:27._

They heard a series of telling clicks as multiple locks were released. Soundless despite its age, the door swung open to reveal a solitary figure, female, who squinted groggily out into the early morning sun. Her hair was in a disheveled bun and judging by her pajamas, her delay in coming to the door had been due to the fact that up until a moment ago, she’d been asleep. 

There was an awkward pause, a split second for the scene to register before, from her position, Beatrice swore she saw the woman’s eyes widen in alarm. 

Mary let out a roar and just started swinging.


	2. Old Friends, Like Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary works through some emotions via interior re-design. Introductions are made, lines are drawn, and the mystery woman gets a name.

Mary’s first jab caught nothing but air as the woman leaned away, backpedaling quickly into the cabin and attempting to fling the door closed in her assailant’s face. 

Mary shouldered through it easily and pressed forward with a snarl, making up for the fact that her eyes needed time to adjust to the darker interior by throwing a series of wild, wailing punches. Quantity over quality. Not one of them connected.

The muted scrape of furniture on tile and a crash of something breakable was followed by a grunt as Mary vanished inside without a second thought, leaving her Sisters, laden with supplies and an unconscious Ava, stunned outside. 

Lilith moved first, looking down at Ava’s limp form as though she had lost at a game of hot potato. Short of laying the Halo Bearer on the rocky ground, there was was no where for her to safely deposit her bundle.

“Go! Help Mary, I’ll stay with Ava.” She was loathe to miss out on the action, but there was no other choice. She stared pointedly at Beatrice. “I will keep her safe.”

Despite the reassurance, Beatrice hesitated at the threshold. There were a lot of unknowns surrounding the ambitious Sister since the incident with the Tarask, but one thing that Beatrice didn’t doubt was Lilith’s ability to put up one hell of a fight - quite literally - if it came down to it. Ava was in good hands. She nodded her thanks and followed Camila inside.

Mary and her opponent were squared off across the shattered remains of a coffee table. The interior of the building was tiny, making manoeuvring in the cramped space difficult. The Sister Warrior circled to her left, paying no mind to the broken glass as it crunched beneath the thick soles of her combat boots. The adjustment was mirrored by the slightly taller girl opposite her, in sock feet.

Beatrice watched closely, cataloguing the movements, the positioning of feet and shoulders. Mary drove forward with a wide right hook that was harmlessly redirected with a well-timed forearm. A follow up jab was deftly avoided as well, the woman stepping around the blow with a practiced bob. Whoever this was, Beatrice thought, she knew what she was doing.

Beatrice began to rotate towards the far side of the kitchen table with the intent to get into a flanking position and noted with satisfaction that Camila was shifting to do the same. With any luck they’d have the stranger in penned in on all sides. She saw Mary launch a vicious combination of punches, the swings more calculated and focused now - testing, probing. It appeared that the initial fit of rage had chilled into the sort of cold, disciplined fury that Beatrice was more accustomed to seeing. To her surprise, however, each strike was parried with relative ease, a rapid series of blocks preventing Mary’s eager knuckles from getting anywhere near their intended target. A second and third round yielded no better results and Mary was now breathing heavily.

“Haven’t lost your touch...” The Sister reached back over her shoulder and drew one of her signature shotguns.

“Mary -“ The woman raised her hands defensively, palms out in an attempt to defuse the situation. Her hair had come out of its haphazard bun, strands of dirty blonde clinging in damp waves to the sides of her face.

“Shut it.” Mary came in with the butt of her gun aimed at her opponent’s temple, only to have the stranger’s fingers wrap around her wrist, wrenching it painfully to the side. There was nothing she could do to avoid the heel of the woman’s other hand from driving up under her chin, snapping her jaw closed with an audible click of teeth. Dazed and stumbling, she dropped the shotgun to the floor. Not exactly what she’d had in mind.

Mary heaved now, her breaths coming in great gulping gasps. She’d had little rest, little food, and little peace after fleeing the Vatican and whatever reserves she had had were all but depleted. She was tired, bone tired, but as her eyes refocused on the blonde in front of her, she lunged forward again with a determined growl.

Beatrice saw what was coming the second before it happened. The stranger adjusted her feet almost imperceptibly, grabbing the incoming forearm and using the force of her attacker’s momentum to propel Mary’s body up and over her hip in a beautifully executed throw. Mary barely had time to get her hands up around her head before she careened into a side table, her foot connecting with a lamp and sending it flying with a crash into the far wall.

“For God’s sake Mary stop,” the words carried a hint of frustrated brogue, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Rather than press her advantage, the woman backed off, bringing her to a position between the two other Sister Warriors. Camila caught Beatrice’s eye and jutted her chin in the taller nun’s direction. _Be ready_.

Camila played it smart, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet like a boxer, her constant motion a distraction that kept the woman’s focus trained solely on her. She took first one, and then a second hop step towards her opponent, causing the stranger to step back directly into Beatrice’s range. The smallness of the space played to their advantage and Beatrice saw her opening. She swung low in a fluid motion, hoping to catch the woman off guard with a sweep. She felt her lower leg connect as it should and then simply stop, causing a small stutter in the stranger’s step but nothing more. 

Beatrice sprang up immediately and followed up with a kidney shot. She had difficulty generating much force behind the jab and the punch came off clumsily. It was no surprise that she found her fist caught and twisted up behind her, the strong grip pushing it roughly between her shoulder blades. The combination of her screaming ribs and the new searing pain in her shoulder caused spots to dance in front of her eyes. She swallowed a cry and squirmed, curling protectively towards her left side as a wave of nausea crept from the pit of her stomach. The woman’s other arm snaked firmly across her neck, holding Beatrice in place in front of her.

“Enough.” 

The voice was quiet, but authoritative in Beatrice’s ear. Her captor squeezed her throat briefly for emphasis and dug a knuckle into the shorter girl’s tender back in warning. She felt her face flush, not in anger - as she would try to tell herself later -but in embarrassment at her own incompetence. Injury or no, being outclassed in two moves like some sort of novice felt like yet another divot in her already dented pride. _What was that expression that Camila had used earlier in the van? Par for the course?_ Yes, that felt pretty par for the course the past couple days. As quickly as the unwelcome thought occurred she buried it, admonishing herself for a reckless moment of weakness. There would be time enough to wallow in her failures when all of this was settled; right now her team was depending on her. 

Beatrice weighed her options before selecting the one she thought had the highest probability of success. With a deep breath she relaxed into the hold, her exaggerated exhale masking the flick of her free hand as it plucked a tiny throwing knife from her sleeve. With all her remaining strength, she jammed it into the woman’s thigh.

The stranger’s breath escaped in a seething hiss against the back of Beatrice’s neck. Off balance, they stumbled backwards into the open concept kitchen, slamming into the countertop and sending several mugs crashing to the floor. Rather than loosening the hold as she had hoped, Beatrice found the arm tightened further about her throat and was alarmed when the edges of her vision wavered black. There was nowhere to go. They were trapped against the kitchen cupboards, a jumbled mess of utensils and broken plates strewn around them. Several of the doors were now ajar, their hinges swinging with an ominous creak in the newfound quiet. 

Beatrice didn’t struggle further. The threat of unconsciousness was a very real possibility that she had no intention of entertaining. She concentrated, feeling the woman’s own measured breaths against her back, oddly calm and measured, feeling the fingers at her wrist grip just that little bit harder, and feeling the body behind her tense ever so slightly in anticipation as Mary hauled herself slowly off the floor. Beatrice could feel a lot of things.

Camila remained directly in front of the pair, wide-eyed and uncertain, her hands still up in a fighting stance. Her gaze went briefly to the growing red stain around the embedded knife and then to Beatrice for guidance, dumbfounded by the speed in which her normally invulnerable Sister had been restrained.

“Stand down...” The words come out in a pant. Mary, with her hands planted on her thighs for support, caught Beatrice’s eye and called her off with a shake of the head. “We’re done here.”

In the wake of such a violent flurry of activity, the tense stand-off in which they now found themselves felt particularly oppressive. The air was charged and heavy as though one wrong move, one stray thought, could throw the situation back into chaos. Camila watched a spoon that had been precariously balanced on the edge of the counter teeter one final time and fall to the floor with a clatter. It landed squarely in the puddle of red liquid dribbling slowly from beneath the cuff of the woman’s sleep pants.

“What. The actual. _Fuck_.” Lilith chose that moment to appear in the doorway, drawn by the pause in the fighting. Still cradling Ava, she took in the disaster area with disbelief. Her rare use of profanity seemed to break whatever spell held everyone in place.

Mary pulled herself up and straightened the collar on her jacket, wiping the back of a hand across her bloodied lip. Eyeing the duo clasped together in the kitchen, she nodded slowly and raised her hands.

The woman swallowed heavily, her eyes flitting to each of the Sisters in turn before she settled back on Mary. She eased her grip on Beatrice, slowly, as if testing the waters, but as soon as the Sister Warrior felt the slack, Beatrice spun quickly out of the hold and moved to stand by Lilith. Stubbornly, she placed herself firmly in front of Ava.

Sweaty and entirely disheveled, the stranger sighed in resignation. “I’ll put the kettle on then.” Pushing off the cupboards, she pulled Beatrice’s knife casually from her leg, gave it a quick once over, and set it on the counter beside the upended salt and pepper shakers. There was a vague motion towards the table, which they assumed was an invitation to sit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mary didn’t have time for pleasantries. She made no effort to mask the loathing in her stare as she followed the stranger’s movements around the kitchen. Kettle filled. Burner on.

“You barge into _my_ house at the crack of dawn, destroy half my belongings, pull a gun on me and only afterwards think to ask that? That’s priceless.”

The Sisters could hear the grind of Mary’s teeth as the other woman rooted around in an undamaged area of the kitchen, retrieving a well-used tea pot and set of matching cups. Lilith joined them at the table after carefully settling Ava on the nearby couch, cautious to clear any bits of shrapnel from the cushions first. Beatrice saw the stranger glance curiously in that direction and so chose the chair directly between the head of the table and the living room. She sat emphatically, meeting a quizzical look with one of tight lipped challenge.

“Well then, pray tell, what brings the God Squad to my door?” Two tea bags were thrown in the pot and she returned to the table, spinning her chair around backwards and straddling the seat. “I gave this address to Shannon, and Shannon only, for emergency use. I didn’t think she’d send her faithful hound.”

 _Oof_...Even Beatrice jumped when the palm of Mary’s hand slammed the table top. “Shannon is dead.”

The woman’s taunting smirk faltered immediately as her face twisted rapidly through a series of emotions. It seemed to settle on distraught. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her hands balling into tight fists in her lap. The rest of the group gaped openly at Mary. They’d never heard her discuss Shannon’s death so bluntly.

“I-...How?” The stranger fumbled for something to say, pinching the bridge of her nose quickly, whether in concentration or to suppress some unwanted feeling, it wasn’t clear. “I...”

“Don’t.” Mary cut her off. “Don’t pretend to give a shit about how I feel and don’t you dare pretend you ever actually cared for her either. It’s insulting to her fucking memory.”

The woman winced, running a hand through dirty blonde hair that fell just below her shoulder. “That’s hardly fair.” Her anguished expression seemed genuine enough but it was quite clear that Mary wasn’t buying it.

“Shannon made me memorize this address in case I ever needed it but she sure as hell didn’t tell me who it belonged to or this would have been the last fucking place on earth I would have come. “

The silence stretched uncomfortably long.

“I take it you two know each other?” Lilith finally asked, tired of feeling like a third wheel on the world’s most awkward date. The kettle began to whistle shrilly, but no one moved. Mary and the woman seemed to be having some sort of wordless argument across the table from each other. It was Camila who finally cracked and went to turn off the stove before they burned the place down.

“Yeah we’re very well acquainted. Or used to be.” The contempt in Mary’s voice was obvious. “Everyone, Sister Sarah. Sister Sarah, everyone.”

“Sister...as in...?” Camila nearly dropped the tea pot on her way back to the table, but recovered in time to set it down with a less than delicate clunk.

“As in _formerly_ of the OCS.”

The emphasis wasn’t subtle. Beatrice saw Lilith narrow her eyes, the qualification automatically coloring her companion’s opinion of their reluctant host. She wracked her brain for any recollection of a Sister Sarah, either from personal memory or the Order’s extensive archives, but came up blank.

At Mary’s introduction, the Sister in question inhaled slowly, straightening her posture and resting her linked hands on the table. “It’s Saoirse, actually. Sarah was what they forced on me at the convent. Had to correct my heathen name to something more appropriate, and pronounceable.” She looked calmly across the table at Mary and spoke with no trace of animosity. “Turned out that neither the name nor the vows fit very well. No one has called me that in years.”

Mary snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

Beatrice remained quiet in favor of studying their new acquaintance. She was tall, at least as tall as Lilith and she carried herself with a similar sort of lithe elegance. In every other way the woman was Lilith’s exact physical opposite. Light hair, light eyes, fine features, and the sort of remarkable paleness that had more to do with genetics than regular use of sunblock. That she was a former member of the Order explained the fighting skills, but little else.

“I’m Camila.” The fact that moments ago they had been trying to knock each other’s teeth out didn’t seem to register as a reason for continued rudeness to the youngest Sister. She poured a cup of tea, ignoring Mary’s withering disapproval, and set it in front of Saoirse with a tentative smile.

“Pleasure.” Saoirse returned the smile without hesitation and wrapped her hands around the comforting warmth of the cup. No one else offered up a name. No one moved. The awkwardness became palpable. “Would anyone like to fill me in?”

“Nope. That won’t be necessary.” Mary glared at Camila until the diminutive nun lowered the tea she had been about to sip. “Don’t get comfy. We aren’t staying another minute in the same place as this one, doesn’t matter what she calls herself. Gather your stuff, let’s go.”

“Don't be hasty. You’re all injured,” Saoirse flicked a glance at Beatrice and beyond to Ava. “Why don’t I go dig out my first ai—“

“Why don’t you stay out of this.”

“Come on,” Saoirse reached across the table to cover Mary’s hand, holding it in place. “You look like death warmed over, it’s broad daylight, and you have no clue where you are other than ‘here’. You can yell at me all you like if it makes you feel better but stick around for a while. Get some rest. Have some food. “

“This ain’t your business.”

“Shannon clearly thought I might be of use, can you just trust-“

“Trust you? That’s rich. Only thing that does is gets people killed sooner or later.”

“For fuck’s sake Mary you petulant _child,”_ Saoirse’s voice crept up an octave. “Trust Shannon! I’m trying to help you, but if you’re so desperate to martyr yourself, then heaven forbid I stand in the way.”

“Could you please give us a moment, alone?” Beatrice interrupted as diplomatically as she could, eager to stave off a second round of ring around the cabin. Whatever history the two women shared was not really her concern; the thought of leaving so soon with no supplies, no vehicle and no plan, most certainly was.

Saoirse shot the younger woman an appraising look. The one with the blades, the one who was responsible for the bleeding puncture wound that was currently ruining her favourite pair of pajama pants. _Fuck_. She picked at the fabric absently, but nodded. “Of course.” She stood, rotating her chair back around and tucked it neatly under the table. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

Beatrice watched her retreating back, feeling strangely about ordering someone out of the room in their own house. After hearing a door click closed and the sound of running water, she turned her attention expectantly to Mary. She was too tired for the argument she knew was coming, but it looked unavoidable given that Mary was now slouched defensively in her seat.

“What?”

“Help us understand what just happened and why it’s so important that we leave right now. We haven’t stopped since we arrived in Rome, before the...incident.” Beatrice cleared her throat uncomfortably, not having had the time to sort through the events of the last few days and unsure of where it left them. “The Halo Bearer is gravely wounded, the Halo is dormant, and the rest of us aren’t looking much like an elite fighting force at the moment.”

Mary slung an arm over the back of her seat and rested her chin against her chest. “Look, I know. I get it. I’m beat. And I’m sorry for dragging you all the way here and for getting your hopes up, but I need you all to trust me. Sar-...Saoirse... whatever the fuck her name is...”

“Language,” Lilith corrected out of habit.

“Lay off Lilith. If anyone warrants an f word or six, it’s her.” Mary sighed and looked almost pleadingly to Beatrice. “I’ll tell you all about it on the road, I swear. It’s a long and incredibly fucked up story, great road trip entertainment. For now all you need to know is that she’s trouble of the worse fucking kind.”

“If she’s as dangerous as you say, why would Shannon have given you her address? Especially to use in a time of need?” Beatrice posed the questions gently, ignoring Mary’s increasing affinity for the word fuck and her obvious desire to end the conversation.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid. Shannon would have known I’d try to gut her the second I saw her.”

“Did Shannon feel the same?”

“Shannon had more reason than anyone to hate that bitch.”

“Something must have changed, Mary.” Beatrice frowned. None of this was making any sense and with Mary not being particularly forthcoming with details, it was hard to see a path forward. “They’ve clearly been in contact, maybe Shannon forgave her? Try to remember exactly what you were told, is there any hint in the wording?”

“Forgave? Not likely.” Mary’s tone took on an exasperated note. “Bea, we are wasting time. Time that could be spent putting some distance between ourselves and here.”

“How exactly? On foot?” Camila blurted out exactly what everyone was thinking, before covering her mouth with her hands as though she could stuff the words back between her lips. “I’m sorry Mary, I mean, I know that you’re the only one with any kind of personal experience here so maybe we should listen to you, but the van is out of commission and we were barely able to get ourselves up a couple of hills under our own power.”

“It’s suicide to leave, Mary.” Lilith spoke in support of Camila. “We’re in unfamiliar territory here and I would be hard pressed to bet on whether it would be the elements or our enemies that would get us first. We’re in no condition for a mountain trek and you know it. We need help.”

“We need help we can trust. We can’t trust her.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re running a little low on allies at the moment. Besides, Beatrice makes a good point, Shannon would never have sent you into harms way. There has to more to this.”

“There’s no reason we can’t still be cautious,” Beatrice added. “We can set up a watch rotation to make sure someone is always alert, monitor her movements, keep an eye on the trail. “

Mary shook her head in disbelief. “You honestly think any of us have a chance against her one-on-one right now? Come on Bea, don’t kid yourself.”

“And you think we have a chance out there? This is the only plan I have Mary!” Beatrice gestured out the window into the mountains, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice . “It’s the only one that might allow us -all of us- to make it through one more day. We cannot keep moving Ava around like a piece of equipment, she is our Halo Bearer and our friend. I won’t allow you to continue to put her at risk. She needs to be given time to recover.”

“What happened to mission of many over the wishes of one?”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you questioning my commitment? Because you should know me better than that.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Camila shift uncomfortably in her chair. Beatrice allowed the anger to well within her, but kept her face neutral, knowing that now was not the time for a spat, no matter how badly Mary’s words wounded her. “At present Ava _is_ the mission. She’s the only shot we have against Adriel. Her unpredictability baffles him. Her link with the Halo is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. We need her.”

“And if the Halo doesn’t recharge?” The older Sister’s tone softened as she looked carefully at Beatrice, knowing the implications of her words. “Then what?”

“Then we will deal with that when the time comes. “ Beatrice scrubbed a hand over her bloodshot eyes and sighed heavily, the motion pulling painfully at the muscles of her aching side. “Please Mary. I was accused earlier of not knowing my limits. Well here. I’m telling you, plainly and clearly: I have reached my limit.”

“Lilith? Camila?” Mary seemed to have decided on a vote.

“I agree with Beatrice, we should stay, at least for a few hours of rest,” was all Lilith said.

“If you take a second to step back and think about it, there’s really not much of a choice,” Camila, Mary’s last chance at a democratic draw, looked apologetic. “I think we should stay.”

“So help me God Beatrice,” Mary shoved her chair back from the table with a loud scrape, and paced the length of the living room. “I hope we live to regret this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still feels so so rough to me, but I just can't stare at it any longer. Writing fight scenes drains my battery.  
> Many thanks for your support thus far and I hope you enjoy this chapter. All feedback, as always, is very welcome!


	3. Tentative Truce

Saoirse perched awkwardly on the edge of the bathroom vanity, leg extended out in front of her so that a foot rested on the closed lid of the toilet seat. The pair of ruined pajama pants, slashed and bloody, lay discarded on the floor, written off much like her plans for the rest of the day. The fight’s adrenaline had, by now, seeped from her system, leaving a dull burning ache that stretched from hip to knee. Her thigh throbbed like a sonuvabitch. 

She stared at the neat, clean-edged gash left by the small knife, prodding it gently with the tips of her fingers. She hadn’t been expecting the blade. Lax on her part really; that had been lazy. She should have known better, been better prepared, but to be fair she hadn’t expected any of this morning’s bizarre turn of events. Weed the garden. That had been the plan. Curl up with a book. _That_ had been the plan. 

Of all the people she had considered might appear at her door, the furious woman currently sitting in her kitchen wasn’t even on the list. It was bittersweet, seeing Mary’s face after so long; crushing to watch it shift from surprised to hateful in a matter of seconds. It dredged up memories she had spent years examining, acknowledging and making her peace with. Clearly not all parties had been quite so reflective. The depth of anger her former Sister still harboured for her wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it hurt.

Saoirse let out a frustrated sigh and swiped the iodine around the wound with unnecessary roughness. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to disentangle herself from the Church and its enormous sphere of influence. Seven years of sanity-preserving distance suddenly threatened by a gaggle of battle worn nuns now clustered around her teapot. Mary and her little band of misfits.

This was a bed of her own making, she knew, having allowed herself to be drawn back into the world of divine intrigue with an ill-advised rendezvous late last year. For the millionth time she cursed herself and her traitorous curiosity. She should have declined, should have deleted that coded text as though it had never existed. But she couldn’t say no to Shannon. Not after what she’d done. 

The Warrior Nun (an interesting turn...) hadn’t offered forgiveness and Saoirse hadn’t asked. It had been business, plain, simple, and deadly serious. The threads of truth Shannon had already unraveled had led them down a rabbit hole the depth of which threatened the very foundation of their beliefs. They attacked it together, like a jigsaw puzzle, with Shannon’s remarkable intuition filling in the gaps of Saoirse’s meticulous research until they had a fair picture of the situation. It was so much worse than they originally thought.

She remembered their last meeting, only three months ago. They had fought bitterly over informing the leadership of the OCS of their findings. She had begged the Halo Bearer to wait until they could be more certain of who exactly was involved but where Saoirse’s faith in Mother Superion and Father Vincent was caustically non-existent, Shannon’s was absolute. In spite of the disagreement, they’d embraced when Saoirse rose to leave, the warm thrum of the Halo against her fingertips and the resolute set of Shannons’s jaw burned permanently into her memory. 

Shannon, who was now dead. Saoirse squeezed her eyes shut and fought the prickle of tears behind her eyelids. _God dammit Shannon, what happened to you? And what do you expect me to do now??_

It was highly unlikely that this morning’s visit was unrelated. She knew very well the security, the shielding, provided to members of the Order when missions went awry or the secular authorities sniffed a little too closely - networks of safe houses, off-shore accounts...You didn’t get to be an Order scholar without learning a thing or two about the nuts and bolts behind the scenes. It made so much more sense to rely on those near infinite resources than to come here. It meant that whatever had gone down was on an unprecedented scale of ‘not good’. 

She had nothing but questions. Where was the blessed Halo? Had it been lost? Did it have a new Bearer? When and how had Shannon been killed? What were they running from? A cowardly part of her hoped that Mary won the debate at the table and that by the time she finished stitching herself back together, this troublesome problem would have kindly removed itself from her life and left her in peace. Gentian and García Márquez, that was supposed to be the way of things now, not habits and holy relics. God, what a mess.

Over the course of her musings, she’d managed to finally stop the stubborn bleed, had cleaned and sterilized the area around the wound and was three neat, perfect stitches into the job when a tentative knock sounded at the door.

“Coming, just need a minute.” Her answer was garbled thanks to the pink plastic toothbrush she’d shoved between her teeth to bite down on. It didn’t occur to her that her response was unintelligible until she saw the door knob turn and found herself joined in the small space by one of the Sisters.

“Oh! I, um- pardon me...” Camila nearly tripped over the large kit of first aid materials set just inside the door, having interpreted the answer as ‘come in’. Her gaze fell immediately on Saoirse, awkwardly paused while performing minor surgery in nothing but a sleep shirt and her underwear.

The young nun flushed and had the decency to quickly avert her eyes. “I mean, I realize Sister Beatrice stabbed you of course, but didn’t even think of the actual...” Camila made a stabbing motion with her hand and frowned. “Do you need help? I’m a fair hand with a needle.”

 _Beatrice._ Saoirse tucked the name away for later. She attempted a reassuring grin around the toothbrush, one hand gripping a bloodied hand towel and the other mid-stitch on the two inch gash in her thigh. She must look like she had escaped from an asylum. “Good thanks. Will be right out.”

“Are you sure? That can’t be easy to do by yourself.” The much smaller girl made no move to get closer, instead raising herself onto her tiptoes and craning her neck to get a view of the progress.

“Quite sure. Appreciate the offer though. Have you been sent to deliver the verdict?” Saoirse arched an eyebrow, still mumbling as she refocused on her sewing hand. “If so don’t keep me in suspense.”

Camila gaped as the woman carefully punctured first the far and then the near margin of the cut and pulled the suture snugly, all while managing to maintain a slightly mocking tone of conversation.

“Sister Camila?” Both eyebrows raised in question this time.

“Oh, right sorry. If you wouldn’t mind joining us in the kitchen? I just wanted to come and make sure everything was all right.” The nun fidgeted, chewing on her lower lip before leaning in conspiratorially and whispering, “but I think it’s safe to say we may need more tea.” She winked and retreated from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

A few minutes later, true to her word, Saoirse padded softly down the hall, her freshly wrapped injury hidden beneath a clean pair of black leggings. Face washed and hair once again tamed in a rough approximation of a bun, she looked alert and refreshed. The same could not be said of her guests, who leaned wearily on the tabletop nursing a second round of hot beverages.

“I trust you’ve had a chance to discuss your options?” Saoirse was careful to keep her voice neutral. She wasn’t looking for a fight. Pouring herself another cup she moved to lean against the counter, finding that standing didn’t pull as uncomfortably on her stitches. The atmosphere felt less hostile, but certainly not welcoming.

The one Camila had named as Beatrice nodded stiffly. “We have, and we’d like to thank you for your hospitality. You were quite right to say that we’re in no condition to travel at the moment, so if the offer is still on the table, we would be grateful for a place to rest and recuperate.”

 _British. Polished. Definitely private school._ Saoirse followed the unmistakable pattern of vowels in the nun’s speech, any regionalization obliterated through years of careful practice and stern headmistresses. _Our dear Beatrice comes from money._ She added that to quickly to her mental dossier before smiling in response.

“Of course. What’s mine is yours, as per the arrangement I had with S—“ She caught a look from Mary and didn’t finish the thought. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like and whatever resources I can provide I will. I’m not really provisioned for six; I’ll have to go to town for supplies at some point. It might be useful for me to understand what happened so I know what may be needed.”

“We-...”Beatrice felt the toe of Mary’s boot connect with her shin under the table and took the hint. She cleared her throat and started again. “One of us will accompany you to make sure nothing is missed.”

“New faces in a tiny town raise questions Sister.” Saoirse shrugged all the same. If that’s the way they wanted to play this, so be it. “But we can discuss when the time comes. Can you at least tell me what we’re up against here?”

“There’s no _we,_ ” Mary cut in before Beatrice could even think of answering, “Ain’t ever gonna be one, so quit your prying,”

“There’s most certainly a ‘we’ when I need to think about what the hell else might arrive to kick down my door. Look, I don’t need all the details, but your being here puts me at risk. I think it’s only fair that you give me something to go on.”

“We weren’t followed.” Beatrice this time, clearly playing the role of good cop in this scenario. “We drove the E45 route up the coast, no stops, and took every precaution. The risk should be minimal in the short term.”

“I hope you won’t take offence if I don’t take your word for it.” Saoirse took a sip of tea, using the cup to hide her exasperation. _The E45?_ They hadn’t come from Andalusia then; that route went nowhere near Spain. She felt an uneasy feeling settle like a stone in her stomach.

“Not at all. Just as I hope you don’t mind me asking what the defensive capabilities of this property are. To be frank, we expected something slightly more imposing.”

“Sometimes unassuming can be the best camouflage. I do have some tricks up my sleeve that I’m sure you’ll approve of, but perhaps you and I can discuss this further at a later time, Sister.” Saoirse watched as Mary struggled to stay upright, the woman’s head bobbing softly in exhaustion. “I think it might be best if I showed you to your rooms?”

Beatrice followed the blonde’s pointed look to her companion, taking in the dark circles user Mary’s eyes as well as the scrapes and bruises that marked the rest of her face. She knew the stranger was right, that now was not the time for a tactical discussion, but it felt like an admission of weakness, a relinquishing of control that made Beatrice deeply uncomfortable. She watched as Mary’s chin finally hit her chest, startling the other woman awake and finally nodded her agreement.

“It’s not glamorous, I apologize,” Saoirse called back over her shoulder as she led them down the hallway, Lilith having to turn slightly sideways to avoid knocking Ava’s head into the door jambs, “but I trust it will do the trick. You’ll have to share. There are two queens and the couch in the living room. I’ll leave it to you to organize yourselves.”

She stepped into the master bedroom and pulled open several drawers, rifling through her rather extensive athleisure collection (who was she trying to impress up here?) to select five relatively plain tees and five pairs of track pants. None matched. She set three on the chair in the corner and brought two to the smaller bedroom across the hall.

“Bathroom is first door on the right, feel free make use of the shower if you’d like. There are pain killers in the cabinet. Just give me a moment to change the bed in my room and then it’s all yours.”

“We couldn’t...” Camila started but was interrupted by a glance that left little room for argument.

“You will. It’s not up for debate. I’m the most well rested here by a fair margin.” Saoirse settled a palm on the Sister’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Please, I insist.”

Mary’s vice-like grip forcibly removed the hand as she cut between the two women, herding Camila protectively behind her. “Looks like it’s you and me, kid. Beatrice, you got this covered?”

“I’ll take the couch.” Beatrice declared with as much confidence as she could muster. The couch meant being on watch. She would let the others sleep and keep an eye on their host. She’d been out for eight hours in the van, which hadn’t exactly been restful but it was still more than what her Sisters had gotten.

“No you absolutely will not.” Lilith used Ava’s legs as a barrier, blocking Beatrice’s move back to the living room. “You should stay with Ava. Take the other bedroom. I’ll take the couch. I won’t sleep much anyway.”

“Lilith-“

“Just this once, can you not argue with me?” 

Beatrice looked very much like she wanted to argue, but held her tongue, instead stepping aside to let Saoirse through with a pile of sheets. Lilith entered and gently settled Ava on the bed, stooping to work the unconscious girl’s feet free of her boots.

“Help me get her out of these clothes.”

It was an awkward process. At one point Saoirse had offered an extra set of hands but was swiftly rejected by both Sisters. She hovered by the dressers, just in case. Together, Beatrice and Lilith worked to wrangle Ava’s uncooperative limbs out of her remaining armor, shirt and pants. As they rolled her up onto her side in order to tug the sheets out from under her, Saoirse caught sight of the distinctive circular scar on the unconscious girl’s back.

“The Halo....” a reverent whisper escaped the former Sister, who pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. She may no longer be a nun, but the existence of a physical manifestation of the divine still inspired a certain sense of awe.

Lilith’s head snapped around immediately, eyes narrowed and the beginnings of a snarl curling her lips. “Keep your distance.” She tucked the covers under Ava’s chin and straightened, a hand reaching towards the baton swinging from her belt.

“She’s Shannon’s successor.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ve brought the Warrior Nun, here, why? What happened?” _So young..._ Saoirse stopped at the foot of the bed, eyes searching Ava’s face for any sign of life. Other than the pale pink of her cheeks, there was none.

Beatrice laid a steadying hand on Lilith’s forearm, fearing that her more volatile companion would simply gut the woman on the spot and be done with her. “There was an...incident. A battle against an unexpectedly powerful enemy. The Halo discharged a pulse unlike anything we’ve ever seen, but appears to have drained itself and it’s Bearer in the process.”

“And you’ve _left_ it there? Are you _mad?”_

“She’s still alive. The Halo will heal her,” Beatrice said, defensively. “She just needs time.”

“Time? You have that in abundance at the moment, do you? There are protocols for a reason.”

“The protocols will be followed, to the letter, if there is no improvement.” Beatrice’s voice was clipped and almost challenging. “It’s not even been 24 hours.”

”Sister...”

“You gave up your right to an opinion when you left the Order.” Lilith cut in and shook Beatrice’s hand from her arm, eyes flashing dangerously. “You have no say here.”

“I have no right, but I do have experience. If the flesh is weak then the Halo is exposed, traceable. This enemy, if capable of doing so, could follow it like a beacon.” Saoirse met Lilith’s glare with a steely one of her own and crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “A beacon straight here. Are they capable, whoever it was that you ran from?”

Silence.

“Are. They. _Capable_.” The unease she saw flicker across Beatrice’s face told her all she needed to know. “Jesus Christ...”

“Language,” came the admonishment, in stereo, from the two nuns.

“Ladies,” Saoirse paced the distance between the dresser and the bed like a caged animal. “I’m quite certain our Lord and Savior has better things to worry about than who said a naughty word. And so do we. Your hope was in your ability to stay hidden, that is the strength of this place: its remoteness. The condition of the Bearer risks everything.”

“Touch her and I _will_ kill you.” Lilith stepped into Saoirse’s path and flexed her fingers, as though daring the other woman to try.

“I don’t doubt that you would. You have my word that I will not interfere, Sister. My concern sits purely, selfishly, in staying alive. I truly hope you’re right about the Warrior Nun. To lose another is not something I ever want to experience.” She sighed deeply, turning her back to them both before moving to the door. “We have a lot to discuss but you should rest. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do, I’ll be in the living room.”

-+-

She was crouched over a pile of debris, dustpan in hand, when Lilith returned to the front room. The remnants of the coffee table had been cleared, but shards of the smashed lamp still littered the floor and the kitchen looked as though a tornado had gone through it. 

Saoirse watched as Lilith stepped delicately around the mess, picking her way through splinters of wood and bits of plaster to settle stiffly in the armchair by the window. The lack of help was hardly a surprise. She shrugged and continued cleaning up what evidence of the encounter she could, lingering briefly over the shattered pieces of her favourite coffee mug, all the while feeling a pair of critical eyes boring sharply into her back.

“Your name doesn’t ring a bell.” An opening salvo fired before Saoirse even had a chance to sit wearily on the couch. “I’ve known a few Sister Sarahs, one with the Order, and they certainly weren’t you.”

“Sarah is a popular pick with the Church. Something about barren, mistrustful women appeals to them.” She sunk back into the cushions with a wry snort and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been gone for some time.”

“Your choice or theirs?”

“Let’s call it a mutually beneficial agreement. Or irreconcilable differences. Our opinions on several matters were...misaligned.”

“To disagree with the Church is to disagree with God.”

“Is it now?” A chuckle of amusement this time. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when they show up at my door looking for you.”

“It’s not the Church you should be worried about.”

“Good to know.” Saoirse lifted her head and met Lilith’s gaze cautiously. “It would be very handy to know what exactly I _should_ be worried about, so that I can be of more help.”

It was Lilith’s turn to huff dismissively. “The best help you can provide is to stay out of our way. The Order of the Cruciform Sword has protected the Halo for centuries, and we will continue to do so without the ‘help’ of outsiders such as yourself. I can not believe Shannon saw fit to involve a traitor like you in this.”

“Shannon knew my worth, despite my shortcomings. She has faith - true faith - and a resourcefulness...” Saoirse caught herself and ground her teeth together against the stabbing ache in her chest. “Had. Shannon had faith.”

Neither spoke for a few moments. One chewed on a question she wasn’t quite sure she wanted the hear the answer to, the other studied every tick, every movement looking for clues.

“C-can you please tell me how it happened? How she was killed?” Saoirse hated the pleading tone that crept into her voice, but she needed to know.

“How about you answer some of my questions first?” Lilith leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees, frowning. “Who was Shannon to you? Why would she have come to you? And what is it about you that makes Mary so murderous? Just curious.”

“Mary’s anger is her own. It’s not mine to share.”

“And the other questions?”

“They’re all linked. Suffice to say that Shannon was once a friend and I had hoped she would be again. Before all this.”

“A friend. Sounds doubtful.” Lilith’s frown deepened. “Are you still in touch with the Church? Anyone else in the OCS?”

“No, no one else. Just Shannon.”

“No one.”

“Is this a conversation or an interrogation?”

“Take it however you like.”

“I wish that I had your confidence about my place in the grand scheme of things.” Saoirse shook her head softly. “It’s so easy when everything is black and white.

“Watch your mouth. You don’t know anything about me.”

“ I know who you are, or at least who you come from. Pretty obvious from those cheekbones and the raging sense of entitlement.”

Lilith was in her face impossibly fast, perfect white teeth bared menacingly. “How dare you! You, who weren’t worthy of the cloth, think are worthy of judging me?”

Saoirse hadn’t expected the aggressiveness of Lilith’s response. There was something in the nun’s temper that didn’t sit well, a depth and darkness to it that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Down girl.” She held her hands up in a submissive manner but stared directly back at Lilith, watching as the anger slowly dissipated to leave something more akin to dislike. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. It’s been a bit of a morning. I try not to get myself stabbed much before noon these days.” She managed a half smile and was relieved when Lilith retreated to the chair, smoothing out her filthy robes and scowling.

“How about twice in one day? I’d say you’re well on your way to a personal best.” It was hard to tell whether the nun was joking.

“Another time perhaps Sister...?”

“Lilith.”

“Sister Lilith.” Saoirse nodded in the woman’s direction before she patted the change of clothes beside her on the couch. “Perhaps you’d like to change into something that doesn’t smell like a dumpster? They’re not very fashionable I’m afraid but they’re clean and comfortable.”

“I’m quite all right thank you.” Lilith waved the clothes away with a flick of her wrist, only to watch flecks of dirt and what appeared to be dried blood flake off her sleeve and settle onto the fabric of the chair arm.

“The furniture thinks otherwise. Please, I insist. I’ll give you a few moments alone, I’d like to drop some bandages to Sister Beatrice. She seemed a little banged up.” Before the other woman could argue, Saoirse left Lilith to get changed, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from her freezer and wrapping it snugly in a clean tea towel. She held it up for the nun to see and pointed down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”

She made a quick stop in the bathroom, rummaging in the first aid kit for several strips of KT tape and some anti-inflammatories before knocking softly on the door of her bedroom. A muffled grunt of permission came through the thick wood and so she entered quietly.

Beatrice stood in the center of the room looking so small in Saoirse’s clothes, so tired, so ridiculously non-threatening that it was easy to forget that an hour ago this slender woman had skillfully plunged a very sharp object into her very sore thigh.

“Thought you could use these...” she held the strips of adhesive and the crinkling packet of vegetables out like a peace offering. “For your ribs.”

“I’m fine thank you.” Beatrice straightened her shoulders, and stared back with an unreadable expression.

“Sister Beatrice, there’s no need to pretend. I saw you earlier, you were guarding your right side. And I’m assuming you don’t normally punch like a wet noodle.”

There was no response.

“Are you always this damn stubborn?” Saoirse took a step forward. “ You can barely lift your arms above your waist. Let me help you.”

“I said I’m fine, thank you.” Beatrice shifted away, planting her feet and sizing up her taller opponent. “And I would appreciate it if you watched your language. Not all of us have forsaken our vows.”

“Don’t. It would hardly be a fair fight Sister,” Saoirse tutted quietly, kneeling slowly on the rug in the center of the room. She sat back on her heels, ignoring the painful stretch of her fresh stitches and motioned for Beatrice to come forward. “I don’t want to argue. Quickly please, my peas are melting.”

To her surprise, Beatrice hesitated only a moment before approaching and turning so that her right side faced Saoirse. The Sister refused to meet her eye, instead fixing her gaze on an imaginary spot on the far wall.

Carefully, she lifted the bottom edge of the grey T-shirt, catching a glimpse of the purple-black bruising that spread in a dark blotch low on the girl’s rib cage. _Good lord._ The fact that she’d managed to put up any sort fight earlier was impressive. Saoirse glanced briefly up at Beatrice’s stoic face and reached out to press her fingertips gently along the margins of the discoloration. 

Beatrice’s knees wobbled, her upper body jerking as though she had been struck. Saoirse quickly grabbed a hand to steady the injured Sister Warrior, pulling Beatrice closer and forcefully putting the other woman’s hand on her own shoulder. “Squeeze the shit out of it if you need to. I’ll do this as fast as I can.”

True to her word, the examination lasted only a few minutes, but by the end of them, Beatrice’s grip on her shoulder was tight enough to make her arm numb. She couldn’t be sure without x-rays, but it didn’t appear that anything was badly broken, only battered to a pulp. Her reluctant patient looked relieved when she shared the news.

Saoirse grabbed the KT tape from the floor and stretched the two longer strips diagonally from upper back to lower front before placing the third directly across the injured area. It would provide support with no restriction, allowing the tissue to rest and heal provided that the stubborn woman allowed it to.

“I’m sorry...about your leg.”

She paused in the midst of smoothing out the last bit of tape, her palm pressed softly against Beatrice’s abdomen. It was so quietly spoken that she thought she’d imagined it. She stood slowly, bag of peas in hand, managing to keep the grimace of pain off her face as the limb in question screeched its disapproval.

“Don’t mention it. It was a good move. Smart. I would’ve done the same.” Saoirse held the peas out towards Beatrice. “Tuck them under your arm while you rest. Try to get some sleep okay? And yell if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” The smaller woman took the bag and distractedly worked at refolding the towel around it, looking oddly deflated. “How is everyone else?”

“I’m fairly sure Sister Lilith will strangle me in my sleep, provided Mary doesn’t reach me first. I haven’t checked in with her or Sister Camila. Seemed like an unhealthy choice. You’ll have to tell me if that’s normal?”

“Sounds it, though I haven’t seen Mary that angry in some time, and that’s saying a lot. She clearly doesn’t like you.”

“That’s an understatement, but she has her reasons.”

“Valid reasons?”

"Yes. Let's leave it at that for the time being. Rest well Sister Beatrice.” She turned as the nun eased herself gingerly down onto the bed beside the fallen Warrior Nun. The bedroom door closed behind her with a quiet click. Saoirse rested her forehead against the cool wall of the hallway, hand still clutching the metal latch. She could feel both the presence of the Halo and the suffocating weight of her past tug at her like thorns. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one just...sat. Forever. Ever just get stuck? Like really stuck and forget where you were trying to go with something? I may not know where this is headed, but it sure feels good to get this out before the end of the year. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> A safe and cheery holiday season to you all, and here's hoping for a substantially improved 2021.


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